


Routes

by orphan_account



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Enemies to Friends (Kinda), High School Flashbacks, Implied/Referenced Underage Drinking, M/M, Mild Angst, Misscommunication, other characters are only mentioned, underage drinking mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2017-11-13
Packaged: 2019-01-10 17:03:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12303600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Keith starts a new job in the city after living off his room-mate for one day too many. But a person he bumps into on the way to work brings up some bad memories, and reminds him of a lot of regrets.Lance never expected to see him again, hear from him again, and now he's just straight up pissed all over again.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Something a little different.  
> Possible continuation?

The sun was shining, the day was hot with a thick canopy of clouds dusting the blue of the sky, and Keith was nervous. For that day, was his first day at his new job.

He hated to admit it himself, but he’d been living in the city, bumming off his best friend and adopted older sibling Shiro who had been a friend since High School, like he always had done and probably always would do.

Shiro was one of those people, he was sometimes a little too lenient, too willing to help others and Keith lapped that up. He’d always told himself he was independent, but he really did rely on Shiro. He’d been living with Shiro since his junior year in high school, and when Shiro moved to the city after graduating college, Keith did too. It had just become their way, Keith relying on Shiro and Shiro always complaining, but letting it happen nonetheless.

Shiro had forced Keith out of their apartment one day, telling him he’d only be allowed back in under the condition that he came back with a job. Keith kicked and complained, to no avail, so he found himself trudging down to the mall less than a ten minute walk away from his apartment and got a job in some music shop, the reason for which was that the shop and its patrons/employees were the closest thing to fitting in with his gloomy, closed-off aesthetic.

Said aesthetic was the one thing that got him through high school and college, he could count on that. The one thing he couldn’t count on was the unbelievable coincidence that was the people he might bump into on the way, which just so happened to be on that first day the one guy that Keith never expected to see again.

“Lance?” Keith muttered quietly out loud to himself.

He was striding confidently, laptop bag hanging from his shoulder, looking casually elegant in a blue shirt and grey suit pants… he looked downright professional, like he really had it all together. The same could not have been said for Keith as he trudged to work in his ripped, baggy black jeans and thick red knit jumper, beanie pulled onto his head sloppily. He glanced up and made the briefest eye contract with Lance, who completely ignored him.

Keith actually stopped in his tracks and turned to watch him continue on his way, he hadn’t expected a tear-full reunion by any means but he at least expected a polite wide-eyed look of recognition, they weren’t exactly strangers.

 

*

 

The first time they had met was in Chemistry, which funnily enough they totally had. They eye-contact popped with electricity as soon as they locked eyes, and Keith being Keith, had no idea what to do about it, so he automatically gave him the stink eye. To this day, he couldn’t quite recall what possessed him to do it, but it had happened and Keith was nothing if not consistent.

“Hey, I’m Lance, nice to meet you,” Lance oozed the kind of cocky self-confidence that young guys had eked out of them as they slowly realised as the years went on that they were, in fact, NOT god’s gift to women.

He extended a hand for Keith to take, but Keith was not so good at the casual physical contact, so he shook it with the hand in his mind. Which unfortunately translated itself to Lance as Keith just staring blankly at the hand that Lance quickly retracted.

The rest of the class passed awkwardly, Keith gave him so little, if not nothing all the while cursing himself for being so bad at this. They had literally just met and Lance looked like he wanted to die, he was obviously just not used to people not falling at his feed adoring him.

Keith honestly thought, in his warped as funny little way that he was trying to impress Lance. He wanted to leave a mark, make an impression by appearing stand-offish and cool. He should have known from previous experience that was not the case, Lance looked grumpier and grumpier as the lesson dragged by, like all the energy had been sapped out of him completely. Did Keith really do that?!

He heard it as they were leaving, Lance threw his arm around a dark, tall heavy-set guy he referred to as Hunk. Keith pondered over whether or not that was a nickname as he watched their comfortable body-language, they must have been at middle school together.

“God, you won’t believe the hour of my life I just had wasted by some asshole,”

Keith gulped at that, but he couldn’t actually dispute the fact, Keith wasn’t much good at being anything else but it was the first time he’d heard it out loud. And it stung, sure, he wasn’t some emotionless robot. Therein he promised himself from that point on he’d make more of an effort, try and make himself do the whole ‘connecting’ thing.

 

* * *

 

 

Lance huffed out a breath, what were the chances. He never expected to see that asshole again, but regardless, it was a temporary blip in his day and it didn’t have any effect on him whatsoever… only it totally did and he was grumpy for the rest of the day.

Mostly because rather than being one of those attractive teenagers that eventually lost their looks as they got older, Keith was insanely hot, he didn’t think it was possible for the hottest guy in school to actually be HOTTER when he got older, it pissed Lance off more than words could say.

He had that aggressively annoying look that screamed ‘I’M A SEXY ASSHOLE AND I DON’T GIVE A FUCK WHAT YOU THINK.’ Which would have been completely desirable and appealing had it not been for the fact he had the stinking personality to match.

Lance thought it’d be fine, he’d probably never see him again, again and he could just carry on with his life.

Instead, he discovered bitterly that this was not the case as we walked to work the following morning, and Keith was there _again_. But this time he was staring so intently at Lance that Lance could feel the heat of it on the back of his neck, what the fuck was his deal? But then Lance shouldn’t have been surprised that Keith wasn’t being subtle now, because subtlety was never his strong point when it came to his shitty personality.

 

*

 

Lance had been minding his own business, trying to get some work done in his chem class, when Keith turned up, late and sassy like always, he narrowed his eyes at Lance as he sat down beside him, flicking his pencil on the table. A noise that made Lance grit his teeth and tense up his shoulders. He glanced up and looked across at Keith, who looked really genuinely torn up about something, and Lance was too nice a person to simply ignore it.

“Hey, you ok?” Lance asked, reaching out to stop Keith from tapping, he listened to him inhale and exhale quietly, the expression on his face stilling.

“Yeah…” Keith winced, his voice minutely uneven, thick with emotion. Lance hadn’t expected to get this far, and there was a softness to him that Lance itched to explore.

“Wanna talk about it?” Lance asked totally innocently, which was apparently completely the wrong thing to say if the downright vitriolic light in Keith’s eyes was anything to go by.

“Why the fuck do you care?” Keith bit angrily, Lance twitched away, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. “I said I’m ok.”

“Well fuck me for asking.” Lance raised his arms in defeat.

“Yeah, fuck you.” Keith whimpered quietly in response, staring down with angry eyes at the table in front of him.

Lance sighed, he was so close to demanding what it was that was Keith’s problem, but he didn’t care… not really.

 

* * *

 

 

Keith spotted him coming from the other side of the path, and stared at him intently like he had the day before, and actually flicked up his hand casually as a way of greeting.

Lance saw him, looked straight at him, and just looked away. Keith flailed his arms outwards in exasperation, he could hardly believe that Lance was STILL bitter about high school. He was acting like he was innocent in the whole thing, Lance ALWAYS bit back, he wasn’t some pure kind wonderful person when Keith was concerned.

Or maybe, Lance really didn’t recognize him, did he look so different? Lance had only matured in all the best ways, his jaw was harder, chest more fleshed out and pronounced under his shirts. Keith had spent a lot of time in high school wondering what he looked like underneath, now when Lance wasn’t wearing a jacket, his work shirts were thin enough that he could just about make out the carved lines of his chest, and it was all he could think about.

 

*

 

In their second year of high school, some kind of sick divine intervention sat them together in Math class, Keith’s least favourite subject. Keith hated being bad at stuff, it frustrated him, for someone who had always taken to so many things completely naturally, he hated that Math was his one weakness. The one thing he couldn’t sit down, look at for an hour and nail it first time. It took work and concentration and an admission that maybe he wasn’t that great at everything, and Keith wasn’t sure he had it in him.

But Lance, Lance was good at Math, he was naturally just academically inclined. And Keith HATED that, but more than anything, he hated that he’d burnt that bridge so thoroughly that if he tried to ask for help from Lance, he was sure he’d fall in the metaphorical river and drown. Keith was stewing beside him, staring at his blank piece of paper. He glanced over to Lance’s page, almost all completely filled in, he wanted to ask for help, but he knew if he straight up asked, Lance would probably just humiliate him, so instead he went for something he was so sure wouldn’t fail.

“That answers wrong.” Keith pointed at the paper. Lance looked up at him, a dead-pan exasperated look on his face.

In reality, that had been an attempt for Keith to prompt Lance to explain why the answer was in fact correct. Therefore, in a weird roundabout way explaining how Keith could work out the question on his own.

“Don’t talk to me.” Lance muttered, moving his body away. Keith tried to hold in an exasperated groan.

He sat there hot in the face, with his empty sheet of paper, and Lance ticking off every correct answer on his own, intermittently glancing over to Keith victoriously, bringing home the fact that they were all completely correct, Keith grunted and rested his chin in his propped-up palm, staring bitterly at the teacher, cursing Lance and then himself for lighting the torch in the first place.

 

* * *

 

 

Lance rubbed his eyes as he approached Keith again, all he wanted was to get to work, and now Keith was making a regular, unwanted appearance in his life again, not least because he had to stop himself from turning and watching Keith leave, he hadn’t seen his ass strolling away since high school, he wondered if that – like Keith’s face – was hotter now, and the temptation was getting to be problematic.

He regrettably made eye-contact once more, and Keith took that as an opportunity to reach out and grab Lance’s arm, stopping him mid-stride. He stared down at him darkly.

“Hey, sorry, I know you’re busy.” Keith spoke, Lance actually felt his stomach flip at the sound of Keith’s voice, it was even deeper, more caramel-like than before if that were possible, he could probably make Lance come just by talking dirty to him, and Lance was, once more, turned on, angry and distracted. “Do you recognize me? At all?”

Lance looked him dead in the eye, remembering those deep blue, almost violet eyes searching his.

“No.” Lance muttered, before turning and storming off, hoping that the heat in his cheeks wasn’t obvious. How was a high school crush he thought he’d gotten over a million years ago coming back after three awkward encounters?

 

*

 

Lance had entered the Math classroom, to find Keith already sat at a desk, a huge thick math textbook open in front of him, as he approached he saw the way that Keith’s eyebrows were drawn together in concentration, he took it as an opportunity to indulge in his frustrating and seemingly un-ending attraction to this fucking asshole.

He looked like he was really struggling to comprehend what it was he was reading, Lance could have taken this as an opportunity to rip the ever-loving shit out of him, but he looked so damn frustrated, the nice guy that was buried way down deep within him whenever he was around Keith was screaming and wailing angrily.

“Hey, buddy,” Lance greeted casually, dropping into the seat beside him. “Need a hand?”

Keith’s head shot up, he looked vaguely hopeful for a second as he stared around at Lance, who must not have been making the right face as Keith’s expression fell into something angry.

“From you? No thanks, _buddy_.” Keith muttered slamming the book shut, pushing it away and leaning back in his chair folding his arms.

Lance just stared at him, raising his arms in defeat.

“Don’t worry about me offering ever again.” Lance shrugged, really it made no difference to him whether or not Keith accepted his help, if he wanted to struggle and be an asshole about it, so be it, Lance was happy to wash his hands of it. “You ain’t that cute, _buddy._ ”

The way that Keith’s head flipped round to stare at Lance, with THAT expression of righteous indignation on his face, told Lance that his statement was wrong, Keith was beyond cute and it was the most annoying, frustrating thing in the entire universe.

 

* * *

 

 

The following morning, Keith exhaustedly traipsed over to work, still completely disbelieving that Lance honestly didn’t remember him. He watched Lance approach, he shouldn’t have been so cut up about Lance’s apparent inability to recognize him, but he really really was. He wasn’t sure if it was because in a weird way he wanted to make amends?

So without really thinking, as soon as they got close he did the same thing as he’d done the day before and grabbed Lance’s arm, halting him once more. Lance’s flat-expressioned face turned to him, a complete lack of any emotion in his features.

“Lance, it’s me, Keith, your buddy?” Keith shook his arm a little bit, like the jiggle of his arm would trigger something in his brain. “We had chemistry, math, music and shit together?”

Lance stood up straight, pulling his arm out of Keith’s grip and folded his arms, regarding him with a smug pout.

“Hey, I do remember you.” Lance chuckled, tapping his chin like he was thinking. “You were that asshole from high school, huh?”

“Oh come on! Dude! It’s been six years!” Keith exclaimed, was he really gonna keep up this stupid hatred/rivalry they had when they were fucking teenagers.

“Funny, six years clearly not long enough in my opinion.” Lance muttered, before wandering away, Keith groaned out loud and stormed on his way.

Maybe it wasn’t worth trying to make amends, Lance clearly wasn’t interested, and if he wanted to cling on to some stupid resentment, then he was more than welcome to. He was clearly a lost cause. Keith resolved to walk a different route after the weekend, to save them both the awkwardness, he kind of wished he’d just let sleeping dogs lie, he was sure they both just felt rotten now.

 

*

 

Music class in third year was the toughest year for Keith. Because Lance, had the prettiest singing voice ever, and a talent with the Spanish guitar, and Keith was so fucking weak for it.

It was especially tough because he had a huge, uncomfortably strong bona fide crush on Lance, and it was killing him that he’d not been able to get planning to start re-building the bridge he’d regrettably burnt. His only way of trying to get over it, totally healthy and normal, was just to constantly just act like he hated him back, all the while wishing that Lance was singing cheesy love songs to him, rather than serenading all the cooing girls in the class.

He was so fucking bitter about it, he was bitter he wasn’t being serenaded, and bitter at the fact that Lance excelled at something that Keith was only vaguely good at. He was better at the bass guitar, which meant he was mostly good for accompaniment, whereas Lance was at the forefront, getting complimented and praised for his talent.

It helped that Lance had such an amiable personality, a confidence that people just naturally gravitated to, but Keith on the other hand, was so terrible at connecting with people. His only friends were Shiro, who was in the year above, and Pidge, a techie girl he’d met once in the computer lab who was a year below. Shiro was like his older brother, and Pidge was his friend under the condition that they sat in the computer lab in comfortable silence, showing each other stupid pictures and sharing conspiracy theories every now and again.

Lance was definitely the most popular guy in his year, Keith was a social pariah, and they always said opposites attract. But definitely not in this case, especially in one lesson where Lance caught Keith staring at him longingly. Though based on Lance’s reaction it probably looked to him more like a death stare.

“What are you staring at, Mullet?” Lance smirked, he sounded vaguely teasing, but it immediately got Keith’s back up, all he wanted to do was ogle his supposed enemy without interruptions.

“Watching you acting like you know what the fuck you’re doing.” Keith scoffed in response. “When in reality you look like an idiot whose trying too hard.”

Lance’s only response was to flip Keith the bird and Keith ground his teeth, he really only had himself to blame but hindsight didn’t make him feel better, it didn’t make whatever was happening right now better, so he bit his lip and turned away, cheeks hot and angry.

 

* * *

 

 

Lance promised himself after the weekend that he’d take a different route, and almost yelled when he saw that Keith had had the same idea apparently. Deep down he was thinking that it was actually a sweet and considerate thing he’d done, but the feeling in his stomach felt anger.

Keith noticed and rolled his eyes like it was Lance’s fault, and for the first time since this stupid charade had started, Lance was the one to stop Keith.

“What the hell is your problem?! Are you stalking me or something?!” Lance exclaimed, Keith drew his eyebrows together desperately.

“No, I swear, I j-“

“No, I don’t wanna hear it, just take a different route for the love of god.” Lance groaned before storming off again. He felt bad, sure, and it wasn’t Keith’s fault really but he hated all the memories and feelings he’d thought he’d buried a long time ago.

 

*

 

Lance stepped into the music room, he’d made a promise to Hunk to try with Keith. Apparently Hunk had heard through a friend of Keith’s that he was a nice guy and that he deserved a chance. And really, seeing the soft look he’d give Lance every time he got up to sing and play seemed like a weird window into a softer side of Keith. The one he’d itched to know about in their first year of high school.

And Lance was genuinely, every single time he got up and played, checking that Keith was watching, because honestly he was only ever trying to impress him. For multiple reasons, the first one being that Keith was the cutest thing he’d ever seen, and the second was mild frustration because Lance had never had anyone dislike him before, he desperately wanted the opportunity to correct that, he really did want to be Keith’s friend. It was pathetic considering how awful they’d both been to each other, could enemies really become friends?

He spotted Keith in the corner with a black bass guitar in his hand, headphones attached to the amplifier, concentration etched into his features as he lost himself in the sound of it, Lance smiled at himself. He genuinely seemed content with his bass guitar.

He approached like Keith were a dangerous animal, because honestly Lance never knew how Keith would react. In an attempt to get his attention, Lance gently touched Keith’s shoulder and he leapt out of his skin, throwing off his headphones.

“Fuck! Lance, you scared the shit out of me!” Keith breathed, Lance chuckled softly, holding his hands up in surrender.

“Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Lance smiled, trying to keep the mood light. Keith tucked the headphones around his neck, letting go of the bass guitar so that it hung loosely across his shoulders.

“What do you want?” Keith asked, it wasn’t said angrily per se, more just as guarded and unsure as Lance felt.

“Well, I was thinking… and you can shut me down if you want,” Lance began, noting the look that Keith gave him at the suggestion of an idea. “Well, we need to write a song as part of our project right?”

Keith nodded, folding his arms.

“Well, how about we work together?” Lance suggested, before Keith could say anything he spoke again. “You know, you’re really good at the bass, and I bet you have a nice singing voice, I can play guitar, lead vocals and write the song?”

Keith stared at him, looking like he was having a really tough internal battle with himself. It looked like he made up his mind as his eyes turned dark.

“You realise Lance, I actually want to pass this class right?” Keith muttered, turning his head away, Lance blanched.

“Keith.” Lance huffed, folding his arms in a response. “I have to know, what the fuck is your deal? Why do you hate me? What did I ever do to you?!”

Keith’s face fell, as he stared at the ground, he looked genuinely devastated, sad.

“Just… don’t.” Keith muttered, putting his headphones back on and turning away from Lance, hiding his face.

Lance was just, at a loss for words, so much for extending an olive branch, not a single person could say that he hadn’t tried.

 

* * *

 

 

Another day, another fucking route. Keith rubbed his forehead, the sun was burning down on him, and work fucking sucked. He was in such a miserable mood, which was only made worse by the fact that Lance had opted for this route too, as if thinking that Keith wouldn’t stay true to his word.

When they locked eyes, Keith just watched as Lance’s face contorted in to half exhausted, half exasperated anger. Lance pounded over to him.

“What the fuck!” He exclaimed, pressing a frustrated hand to his forehead, giving Keith the opportunity to watch the muscles in his arms flex as he moved.

“I did what you asked! I took a different route, didn’t I?!” Keith groaned unhappily, in the mood he was in he wasn’t sure if he’d yell or collapse in Lance’s arms, the latter was definitely preferable but not the safest certainly.

“Not the same route as me!”

“How am I supposed to know what route you’re going to take?!”

“Oh, because you’re Keith!” Lance grunted, throwing his arms in the air. “You’re so talented, and smart and interesting and cool-“

They stared at each other quietly.

“Scratch that last part. Just, leave me alone? Please?” Lance stammered awkwardly. As he turned to walk away, Keith reached out, taking his wrist in his hand, feeling the elevated rate of his heartbeat.

All Keith had to do was say something nice, be friendly. But when the kind words couldn’t be found and Lance was staring at him expectantly, he opted for an over-due apology.

“I’m sorry, Lance.” Keith muttered. Lance twitched, genuinely taken aback. “I’m sorry for everything back then.”

Lance huffed out a breath, pulling his wrist out of Keith’s grip.

“Too little, too late.”

 

*

 

Another year, another sick joke. History class sat next to Lance. At this point, there was so much damage dealt that they didn’t even talk to each other, at first.

But then Lance said something snarky, and in a way, Keith was glad because that meant that he could just try and get over him, get over this stupidity of a four-year-long unrequited, unhealthy, unhappy crush.

But he was so gutted as well, they were older now, and he wished that they could have been friends, honestly. Them getting older only meant that the insults traded between them were just downright mean, Keith knew he could stop it by just not responding, but Lance was one person that always knew all the right buttons to push. When Lance dangled bait in front of his face, Keith was a sucker for it.

“No, Lance! You don’t actually know all there is to know about the Great War!” Keith was yelling, they were stood up, hands on the table, screaming at each other.

“I bet you know all about it because you’re a freak who’s obsessed with death and gross shit.” Lance spat back, the entire class was looking between them, it had become a regular occurrence, and as far as their history teacher was concerned, they had to learn to get along.

“Lance! Detention!” The teacher yelled from the front. Lance threw his arms in the air, not tearing his eyes from Keith’s.

“Thanks, _buddy._ ” Lance bit, quietly, dropping into his chair and folding his arms angrily.

 

* * *

 

 

The day after that, Lance went back to his usual route, and amazingly, so did Keith. But instead of interacting like Lance had come to expect, Keith was staring sadly at the ground, hands deep in his pocket. The look on his face was genuinely heart-breaking for Lance to see.

But at this point… there was so much bad blood between them, misguided and misplaced, but it was as Lance had said, just too little too late.

Because how could they get over what had happened, the words they said to each other, the way they looked at each other like they genuinely hated each other, when really, it couldn’t have been further from the truth.

Because it was too far gone from harmless playground teasing, it was like a competition between them to see who could be the worst, out-doing each other at every turn.

 

*

 

“Thanks, _buddy._ ” Lance muttered, before angrily dropping into his seat.

“What the fuck!” Keith turned to the teacher, Lance watched him, shocked. “Fuck that, why is he getting detention, we were both yelling!”

“Fine, you both get detention, works for me!” Their teacher casually shrugged. “Now sit down, and pay attention.”

Lance was still staring at Keith when he sat down. Lance desperately wanted to believe that Keith was trying to get him out of trouble, or show some kind of weirdly affectionate solidarity between them, but Lance imagined it was another competitive thing, so he scoffed and turned away.

When the actual detention happened, they were the only two people in the room. Which Lance imagined could end one of two ways, either they’d be throwing furniture around the room, or they’d be angrily making out. Lance knew which he’d prefer, but there was no way that Keith would kiss him, no fucking way.

“I hope you know this isn’t gonna be like the breakfast club.” Lance sighed, dropping into a chair and slamming his books onto his desk.

Keith remained quiet, staring at the desk like he was trying to decipher the messages carved into them, like it was some secret code that would help Keith save the world in the future. He looked so upset, his hands clutching at his biceps, he usually had his arms folded but this was different.

“Hey,” Lance sucked in a breath, was he really going to do this to himself again? “Thanks, for… standing up for me in your weird way.”

“Whatever.” Keith muttered, not moving his eyes, still staring stoically at the markings of students been and gone. Lance bit his lip, it was now or never.

“Keith, I have to know,” Lance hissed. “I’ve made my peace with the fact we’ll never be friends, and I honestly don’t give a rats ass whether or not you hate me. But, I have to know why, why do you hate me so much?”

“Because you’re you!” Keith slammed his hands on the desk, turning his head to stare at Lance. “That’s why!”

“Fuck you! I can’t change me!” Lance exclaimed, he didn’t remember standing up, he didn’t remember kicking his chair to the floor behind him.

“I don’t want you to!” Keith exclaimed, standing up also, his chair clattering to the floor loudly.

“THEN WHAT THE FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM?!” Lance gesticulated, this didn’t clear up a damn thing, they were just going around in circles, Keith’s arms dropped to his sides, the angry resolve on his face completely gone.

“I-“

The teacher burst in, regarding the two of them, stood facing each other, chairs on the floor and folded her arms.

“You two, opposite sides of the room, shut up and sit down.” She spoke, Lance grabbed his books and his bag.

“Gladly.”

 

* * *

 

 

The next day, Keith’s headphones were deep in his ears, he watched Lance pass, and turned to watch him walk away. His stomach churned at the thought of how things could have been so different. Maybe they’d be walking hand in hand together, Lance could have been the one good thing in his life, a positive, motivating force. Maybe if he’d done things differently, he wouldn’t be bumming off Shiro, working some shitty job in some shitty music shop. He sucked in a deep breath and continued.

 

*

 

Keith didn’t remember much of his prom night. The one thing he did remember was the fact he absolutely did not want to go.

And then Shiro ployed him with booze, dressed him in a suit and sent him on his way.

He could remember walking into the gymnasium, and immediately spotting Lance, like he was the only person in the room, though that could have been drunken tunnel vision. He’d swore to himself there and then that he’d dance with Lance. He could remember laughing at the fact that rhymed, and that was all she wrote.

 

*

 

Lance glanced back and watched Keith go, he wondered what things would have been like if he’d just been… softer with him, if he’d consistently tried to show Keith some kindness, they might be buying plants together, going to the movies, having lazy Sunday mornings in bed together. Or even to just have been friends. Lance didn’t have a lot of regrets, but he did regret that.

 

*

 

Lance and Hunk were stood, leaning against the wall, watching the students around them enjoy their night, Hunk leant up and pointed.

“Holy shit, is that Keith?” Hunk whispered, Lance followed the direction of Hunk’s finger, and low and behold, there was Keith. But he was pink in the face and stumbling, he was definitely hammered. But damn did he look cute in that suit.

And he was definitely heading straight for Lance, were they about to have the fight that all of this arguing had been gearing up to? Keith stumbled across the dancefloor, and out of pure instinct from having a baby nephew, he leapt up and supported Keith under the arms. If he was after a fight, he was far too drunk for it.

Lance expected for Keith to stand up and push him away, yelling at him indignantly. Instead, Keith leaned into his touch, his head coming to rest softly against his shoulder, exhaling a breath. He reeked of cheap vodka, this had to be Shiro’s doing.

“Lance,” Keith slurred delicately, breathing hot breaths onto his neck. “Dance with me!”

Lance blanched, heat settling in his cheeks, he lifted Keith up and away from his shoulder, lowering his head to look him in the eyes.

“Are you joking?” Lance scoffed. “Now, why would you wanna do that?”

“Because I think you’re cute,” Keith huffed, like that much was obvious. “And I want to dance with you.”

Lance rolled his eyes, groaning, trying to stop the heat in his cheeks. Why was Keith lying to him?

“No you don’t, Keith,” Lance muttered, guiding him over to a chair beside Hunk, who was watching the entire exchange with wide eyes. “If you did think that, why would you be such an asshole to me?”

Keith tried to support himself on Lance’s shoulder, staring him straight in the eye.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry.” Keith moaned unhappily, patting Lance on the shoulder. “I didn’t mean to be an asshole, I’m just… bad at this.”

At ‘this’ he gestured vaguely between the two of them. Lance’s stomach was doing backflips, where was all this coming from? And why now?

“What the fuck do you mean?” Lance yelped, desperately trying to decipher exactly what it was that Keith served to gain from this.

“It doesn’t matter, Lance!” Keith leapt up from the chair, extending a hand towards him. “Are you gonna dance with me or not.”

Lance looked up at him, and as much as he would have liked to have taken that hand, he could tell by the sickly green tinge on Keith’s cheeks that there was no way that he wasn’t going to puke. And if he puked, and a chaperone saw, there was a good chance that Keith could lose his scholarship for college. He stood up and took Keith’s hand, but instead of hitting the dance-floor, he all but forgot about Hunk in favour of taking Keith to the bathroom.

He pushed on through Keith’s weak protestations, shoving through the bathroom door and bogarting a stall, he gently sat Keith down next to the toilet bowl, and tried to make himself comfortable on the stall floor beside him.

This was not where he’d expected to find himself on his fucking prom night. He would have left Keith to it, but in this state he wasn’t sure if Keith wouldn’t accidentally choke on his own vomit.

Keith leant his head back against the stall wall, and stared at Lance in the eyes. Lance looked back, admiring how even hammered and messy, Keith still looked gorgeous.

“I’m so sorry, Lance.” Keith breathed, reaching out for one of Lance’s hands, clutching it tightly, like it was the only thing keeping him conscious.

“Yeah? For what?” Lance smirked, lifting Keith’s hand so it was resting on his bent knee.

“I’m sorry, for not knowing what to say to you.” Keith’s eyebrows knit together. “I’m sorry that I’m not good at the whole ‘connecting’ thing, I never have been. I really thought that, if I was mean and stand-offish and cool, you’d be interested in me. But, I know it’s five years too late, but I know now that it was really shitty and uncool, and I hate that I made you hate me, and I’m sorry.”

Lance stared at him, pouring his heart and soul out to him, on their high school bathroom floor. He looked so sad and he was so damn hammered, that Lance just really asked himself, could he honestly say that he hated Keith? He wasn’t totally sure that he could.

“I don’t hate you,” Lance smiled, he felt Keith’s grip on his hand tighten.

“Yeah, you do.” Keith bit his lip, looking at the ground. “And it sucks, it sucks so much because all this time, all I ever really wanted to do was-“

Keith was interrupted by the violent expulsion of pure liquid vodka vomit, Lance instinctually leant forward and pulled back Keith’s hair from the line of fire, his hair was even softer than he ever imagined, and he wasn’t ashamed to admit he imagined it a lot. Keith leant back and wiped his mouth, continuing his sentence.

“Kiss you.”

Lance felt his heart in his throat, and he physically couldn’t tear his eyes away from Keith’s, they were magnetic, completely pulling him in. It did suck, because even though he knew he felt the same, everything just felt too vitriolic. But Keith was giving him the look, the one look that Lance had always wanted to see, the look he’d sometimes see in music lessons when Keith didn’t know Lance could see him. The soft, sweet, kind look that didn’t happen very often on Keith’s hard features.

And, if Lance hadn’t let himself think too much, he probably would have kissed him, they were mere centimetres apart, and it would be a dream come true, but as it was, Keith was drunk, too drunk and it didn’t feel right, not after everything.

“Come on, let’s get you home.”

 

* * *

 

 

Keith walked to work, he was so exhausted and so ready to just quit everything, he’d tried but nothing seemed to stick. He’d almost taken a different route to work because he wasn’t sure if he could cope with the resentment radiating off Lance.

Much to his surprise, however, as they passed and Keith glanced up, Lance was looking at him, with the softest fucking smile on his face, Keith was too busy being shocked that it was too late for him to smile back, Lance was gone, striding off confidently like he always did.

 

*

 

Keith could remember waking up with an awful, stinking headache, he didn’t remember how he’d gotten home, but he was still fully clothed, he lifted his head, gently, and noticed a slip of paper on his pillow with some numbers written messily on it, now he was truly confused. He sucked in a deep breath and pressed the butt of his palms to his eyes, he climbed out of bed, stared at the slip of paper. It looked like a mobile number, but he didn’t trust himself to remember whose it was. Rather than risk it, he slipped the paper into the draw beside his bed, just in case it came back to him in the future, and climbed into the shower.

He cursed himself for obviously not trying hard enough with Lance, school was over now, and that meant they might never see each other again. After this summer, they’d go to college, they’d go their separate ways and he hated it. He didn’t have a way of contacting Lance, and even if he did, everything was too messy to fix. He sighed under the shower and promised he’d exact revenge on Shiro as soon as his headache subsided.

 

*

 

Lance chuckled to himself watching Keith pass with that shocked look on his face. He actually felt quite good regarding Keith a little differently.

He knew that there was too much bad blood, too much built up resentment from five years of anger, but he owed it to himself to try and make something positive from it, he didn’t hate Keith, not really. He never had done honestly, and he could spend hours thinking about the what ifs, that’s why hindsight was such a beautiful thing, but it didn’t do him any good to live in the past.

 

*

 

Lance had his arm around Keith’s waist, supporting him as they rounded the corner to Shiro’s house, Keith was so warm and clingy, his face buried in Lance’s neck, his bangs tickling Lance’s cheeks, eventually they got to the porch outside. Lance doubted that Keith had keys, and if he did there was no way he’d be able to get inside and up to bed without help. As he reached out to ring the doorbell, Keith stopped his hand and held his wrist, Lance hoped that his pulse wouldn’t give him away.

“Don’t go.” Keith whispered, his voice so soft and sweet that Lance could have played it over and over again.

“I have to,” Lance breathed.

“But I wanna kiss you,” Keith didn’t dare let go of Lance’s wrist. “I wanna tell you that I like you, I wanna tell you how sorry I am for everything. I wanna make it up to you.”

Lance sighed, he reached into his pocket and pulled a receipt out of his wallet, and he tore off the edge and rummaged around for the pen his brother had stashed in one of the pockets, just in case Lance managed to get any cute girls’ numbers. He didn’t imagine he’d be writing down his own number, and for Keith no less. He pressed it into Keith’s palm.

“If you can remember all this, and you’re not lying,” Lance closed Keith’s hand around the slip of paper. “Then call me. If you really mean it, then call me. We have an entire summer to make up for it if you really really mean it.”

Keith stared at his closed palm like it was the Holy Grail.

“I swear, I will remember this.” Keith beamed. Lance scoffed, he sat Keith on the chair outside the front door and rang the doorbell.

“I’ll see you later.” Lance waved as he walked away, only glancing back to see Shiro opening the front door and carrying Keith in, like the drunken mess that he was.

 

* * *

 

 

Lance never did hear from Keith, he shouldn’t have been surprised honestly, he expected that Keith must have woken up and was so embarrassed and humiliated at the memory of what he’d said that he threw Lance’s number away. Maybe none of it was true and he regretted it and couldn’t face Lance again.

Or maybe it was simpler, maybe it had always been simpler. Maybe everything from the look that Keith gave him on the day they met had just been a miscommunication that neither of them could take back.

The following day, as they passed by each other on their separate routes, Lance couldn’t help himself.

“Hey, buddy.” He spoke, smirking softly at Keith as they passed. He saw the shock on Keith’s face fall into something gentler as he sucked in a deep breath.

“Hey… buddy.”                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                              


	2. Paths

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh so hey i did do a continuation!

The sun falling across his eyes is what woke him up, he felt like a cat curled up in a sun spot, someone must have forgotten to close the curtains when they trudged up to bed last night.

Sunday morning was always Lance’s favourite day of the week, it always felt much lazier, like he could spend hours watching morning cartoons in the sunshine streaming through the windows, lazy breakfast, sleepy shower, nothing felt like too much effort.

Except it was, when he heard a noise coming from the monitor resting on the bedside table beside his phone, he stretched, picked up the monitor, pocketed his phone and rubbed his eyes. As he passed, he popped his head into the baby’s room, false alarm, she was still fast asleep.

The one bad thing about Sundays, was that Monday was right around the corner, he pondered over his burgeoning responsibilities as he turned on the hob in the kitchen, scouring the cupboards for some ingredients, pancakes sounded like an excellent shout.

*

He wasn’t sure if it was just… sheer impatience, or exasperation, but he had to interrupt Keith when he spoke, he sure as shit wasn’t going to be the one to say it, but he was sick of waiting for Keith to do it, so when it finally happened he exploded.

“Lance, do you wanna-“

“FINALLY!” Lance exclaimed, throwing his arms into the air with relief, Keith’s eyes widened at his response.

“You don’t know what I was going to ask!” Keith smirked, rubbing the back of his neck, looking away with a tentative excitement on his face. “I was going to ask if you wanted to… buy a cat.”

“And I was saying finally! I’ve always wanted a cat!” Lance rolled his eyes, the season was beginning to change, and it’d been a couple of months since he and Keith had become… amicable again. “I’ll call him… Mr. Staples.”

“Mr. Staples.” Keith nodded, folding his arms. “Yes… that’s a… an interesting choice.”

“My brother had a snake called Mr. Staples.” Lance shrugged, staring Keith down, humouring him till he said what he really meant to say. “What kind of cat is it?”

“It’s… it’s a… tortoise?”

“A tortoise?”

“Yeah… you know it’s all… black and brown, and… stuff.”

“You mean tortoise-shell?”

“That’s… the badger!” Keith exclaimed.

“What? What are you saying?” Lance scoffed, amusedly.

“It’s a British phrase, it’s… a real thing I promise.” Keith was flailing so badly. “It’s a bit like… pointing at your nose and then pointing at someone who got the answer right.”

Lance pouted and folded his arms, staring down at his watch and tapping his foot. Keith groaned unhappily.

“Okay, I don’t have a cat to sell.” Keith sighed, re-adjusting the beanie on his head. “I wanted to ask you out.”

“And I said FINALLY!”

*

He was mixing the pancake mixture, the oil was simmering nicely in the pan, when an almighty roar exploded from the monitor he’d rested beside the hob. He groaned and hung his head, switching off the gas and heading to the babies room. She must have just woken up, and she did not look happy.

“Bella, mi sirenita,” Lance cooed, reaching down with a huge, gooey grin on his face, as her big blue eyes took him in, the cry in her lungs died the second she saw the smile on his face.

“What happened, did you have a nightmare?” Lance smiled, tucking her nicely against his waist, her hands immediately planting themselves onto Lance’s cheeks, as she always did, like she was testing him, she had a couple of different reactions.

If he hadn’t shaved that day, it was an amused giggle at the sand-papery texture of his five-o’clock… or 10 am – after glancing at his phone – shadow. If he had shaved, her eyes would widen and she’d have to lean in for a closer look, as if her father had been kidnapped and replaced with a smooth-skinned clone. She’d always judge it on the scar he had on the lower left hand-side of his jaw, and once she was satisfied, she’d plant a huge, wet kiss on the side of his cheek, by way of greeting.

Today was a sand-paper giggle, which was fine because that was Lance’s favourite reaction. Her laugh was like music to his ears. He bounced her happily against his hip as he headed for the living room, breakfast was going to have to wait, there were more important matters to attend to.

*

“I’m nervous.” Lance breathed, adjusting his shirt in the mirror once more, whilst Pidge and Hunk regarded him from his bed. “I’m so nervous.”

“Well… aren’t you worried it’s gonna be awkward?” Hunk asked, leaning forward on his knees. “This was your worst enemy in high school, no offence Pidge.”

“None taken,” Pidge offered a dismissive hand in response.

“I know… but he seems genuinely sorry for what happened,” Lance huffed. Ever since Lance had re-lived the memory of prom night, his thoughts had changed, he’d grown strangely accustomed to seeing Keith every single day.

As far as Lance was concerned, they… just needed to give each other a break.

Was what he thought until they got to dinner, Keith had picked a bar, an interesting bar to say the least. Lance wasn’t even convinced that Keith had been there before himself.

“You look… good.” Keith breathed as they met outside, Lance smirked, god this was going to be painful if that was how Keith was starting.

“Thanks, so do you.” Lance gestured to Keith, who was… wearing exactly the same clothes he always wore, black jeans, some shitty band t-shirt from the music shop he worked at and his signature beanie.

Lance was a little pissed that he hadn’t made any effort, but dammit if Keith didn’t always look good.

“Uh, thanks.” Keith muttered, rubbing the back of his neck, a nervous tick that Keith had apparently picked up since they’d started talking again.

“Shall we… go inside?” Lance gestured to the door they’d been stood in front of awkwardly. Keith smiled uneasily and held the door open for Lance to enter.

“Find somewhere to drink and I’ll go get us something to sit.” Keith gestured to the tables, Lance shot him a look. “I meant… the other way around, just… go sit.”

As Lance took a seat at a table tucked away in a corner, candlelight flickering gently on the oak table, he realised that Keith hadn’t actually asked him what he wanted to drink. Lance could only imagine what Keith had in mind. Was he hoping to get super… super drunk to try and relieve some of the tension?

Lance wagered that it actually wasn’t too bad an idea.

A couple of minutes passed and Keith arrived at the table with a bottle of whiskey and two glasses, Lance stared at him. His only response was to shrug, slam the whiskey bottle on the table and shuffle into the chair facing him.

 

An hour had passed, and they were near-screaming at each other.

“WHY DIDN’T YOU WANT TO MAKE MUSIC WITH ME?!” Lance cried, his arms flailing dramatically. “We would have made beautiful music together!”

“I know! Lance! I know! We would have! And I’m sorry!” Keith groaned, his head in his hands, people around them were staring but they were half a bottle deep with no regrets. “If we had I might have actually passed! I might have made something of myself!”

“What was your problem?!” Lance whined, though he thought he might already know.

“You were too fucking cute!” Keith groaned, his face still covered by his hands, though Lance could see the tell-tale blush staining his ears, he’d discarded the beanie about two drinks in, the bar was exceptionally cosy. “I couldn’t deal, I didn’t know how to deal! I didn’t know what to say to you!”

Lance smirked at him, reaching out for his arm, trying to pull his hands away from his face, when he did, Keith stared up at him with the most gut-wrenchingly nervous expression on his face.

“I thought you were cute too.”

Lance didn’t mention prom night.

*

“Bella, dios mio, for the last time, face-hole not floor.” Lance grunted. At this point, Lance was forgoing picking up any of the baby-food slop spilt on the floor until the very end, it was a pointless exercise being that she’d probably just keep doing it, seeing it as more of a game than breakfast.

“I gave up making pancakes to do this! Because I’m a great dad, and a wonderful husband!” Lance cried, resting a hand to his forehead dramatically.

Bella stared up at him, at the spoon and back to him, and suddenly, she sported a weirdly familiar pout, and folded her arms. He groaned.

“Princesa! The quicker you eat, the quicker we can watch cartoons about robot Lions!” Lance leant down onto the high chair, so that they were eye to eye. She glared him down with a familiar stubbornness, before finally relenting, she never said no to robot lions.

Finally, she finished and Lance made quick work of cleaning the floor before gripping her once more under her arms and flying her across the kitchen towards the living room, he flopped down onto the sofa and deposited the baby onto his stomach, she rolled around to get comfortable, her head resting just below his collar bone, as he searched with one hand for the remote.

“God, where did she put it?” Lance muttered to himself, shoving his hand down the gaps in the sofa cushions, with much success as amongst the crumbs he managed to fish out the correct remote.

He switched on the television, and through pure habit, typed in the three digits most familiar to him, and was met with the satisfying theme-song to Bella’s favourite show. It felt apt, as it was a favourite show of his from when he was a child, only a re-boot of sorts.

He sang along loudly with the theme-song – it didn’t have lyrics but Lance made a game of making up new ones for every episode – which Bella didn’t seem to mind as she clapped her chubby little hands and grabbed her feet.

Lance rested his left hand on Bella’s stomach to stabilize her and he caught the glint of the Sunday morning summer sunshine glinting off his wedding ring, he sucked in a deep breath, distracted by the memory, before Bella lifted her head and slammed it, unceremoniously and – Lance hoped – completely accidentally into his chin.

*

“She hates me, doesn’t she?” Keith whined, he was sat on the closed lid of the toilet seat, head resting on the sink to his right, he’d been hiding in the bathroom for about twenty minutes.

Lance was smiling fondly at him from the edge of the bath, he reached out for one of Keith’s hands and pulled it onto his lap.

“No, Keith, she doesn’t hate you,” Lance smirked, hoping that the circles he rubbed into Keith’s knuckles were comforting. “I just used to bitch about you a whole lot, so… she’s gonna take some adjusting I guess.”

“You could have said that before I came here!” Keith moaned, moving his head from the sink onto Lance’s lap. “At least I could have prepared myself for the collective looks of pure hatred from all the members of your family.”

“If I’d have told you, you’d have never come.” Lance scoffed, Keith couldn’t dispute that, it was absolutely true. Keith just wasn’t used to a family so close that they… said stuff like that to each other, told each other everything.

“Lance… what if they never like me.” Keith huffed, burying his forehead into Lance’s bony knee. “What if they always hate me… what if they hate you by proxy, I can’t do that to you.”

“Keith, c’mon, the more you hide away, the more they will hate you.” Lance smirked, lifting Keith’s head and dropping to his knees in front of him, smiling up at his sad little face. “They know how I feel about you, they’ll come around, I promise.”

Keith sucked in a sad, hollow-sounding breath.

“And how do you feel about me.” Keith allowed a tiny smirk to play on his lips, and Lance couldn’t help the eye roll.

Lance had a couple of options here, he could tell the truth and risk him leaving a Keith-sized hole in that door, or lie and risk making Keith feel even worse than before. Because the truth was something that neither of them had said before.

Lance could tell by the look on Keith’s face exactly what he was expecting to hear, and he had the tiniest little smile on his lips.

“God, I didn’t want to be doing this in the bathroom at my parent’s house.” Lance groaned, before allowing a soft smile and a genuine look in his eyes to replace any faux exasperation. “I love you, Keith.”

And Lance waited, he waited… for anything, he waited for a gust of wind to pass him by and an empty hand, but instead he was gazing up at a wide-eyed pink-faced Keith. The last time he’d seen Keith make a face like that was the first time they’d spent the night together.

“You what?” His voice was so… quiet.

“I lo-“

Before Lance had a chance to finish his sentence, he felt the cool tiles of the bathroom wall against the bare backs of his arms as Keith’s lips were on his, his hands everywhere, like he might never see Lance again.

“I love you, Lance.”

And he was repeating it like a mantra, like a motto, like he was trying to get an entire life’s worth of confessions out in the span of ten minutes, everywhere he left a kiss, the soft heat of those three words followed in its place.

 

“Okay, they definitely hate me.” Keith’s head was resting against the rumbling window of their car as Lance drove them home.

“They don’t hate you!” Lance exclaimed, though he still felt like he was wearing a thick coat of shame over his shoulders.

“LANCE! They walked in on us,” Keith clapped a hand to his face, a fresh wave of red-ness hitting him like a freight-train. “Both half-naked-”

Lance huffed.

“Fucking!”

“Yes! Keith, I was there!” Lance cried, his forehead coming down onto the steering wheel.

His parents had caught him in some compromising positions before, but… this was… Lance had to stop thinking about it, because for as embarrassing as it was that his parents had walked in, it was the hands-down the sexiest that Keith had ever been.

He’d always thought that Keith talking dirty to him with that… voice of his… would be sexy, but in reality it was a million times sexier than he could have ever imagined, couple that with the fact that Keith couldn’t stop telling him how much he loved him, and loved this and loved that, feeding the near-severe praise kink that Lance kept denying he had and it made Lance’s toes curl at the mere memory.

“You were also the one who didn’t lock the fucking door!” Keith whined, “I will never, ever be able to face them again, ever, we’ll just have to pretend I moved to… England or some shit.”

“God, what is your obsession with England?” Lance smirked, reaching over to nudge Keith’s leg gently, by way of reassuring him.

“THERE ARE PEOPLE THERE THAT HAVEN’T HEARD ME TELLING YOU THAT I COULD HAPPILY LIVE THE REST OF MY LIFE BURIED IN YOUR ASS!”

*

“God, Bella, you’ve got a mean headbutt.” Lance groaned, Bella was nestled happily into his hip, her head resting gently on his shoulder, her way of apologising for head butting him. “At least I know you can hold your own when you get to school, just like daddy!”

He rooted around in the cupboard for a plaster, it was barely a cut, but any excuse to get a kitty plaster on his face. He pulled them out and stuck one onto his chin, he turned his head so that Bella could get a good look at it, she poked it gently.

“How does it look, conejito?” Lance smiled, Bella gurgled in response, Lance took that as a resounding yes.

He glanced over to the half-mixed pancakes and tried to ignore the rumbling hunger in his stomach, this was one of the many reasons he missed living with Hunk, he’d had breakfast made for him every single morning, maybe, in hindsight, he should have married Hunk.

He smirked, and bounced Bella in the air, her beautiful, adoring face beaming down at him.

“Please don’t vomit in my mouth.” He cooed in a sing-song voice, Bella gurgled and reached down for him.

And in reality, all of the good and bad that had happened in his life? He wouldn’t have changed a thing, he held a hopeful, familiar weight on his finger and his whole world in his arms, that was just how life went, with all good things came the bad shit.

*

“I am not moving in with you and Shiro, Keith.” Lance muttered, his head resting against the cushions of his couch, Keith was storming across the kitchen his arms folded moodily.

“Well, I’m not living here.” Keith grunted, gesturing to the floor emphatically, as if he were making a irrefutable point.

“What’s wrong with this apartment!” Lance sat up and gestured around. “You’re here almost constantly, so what’s the difference!”

“Because it’s always about what you want!” Keith snapped, his fists clenched. Lance huffed in a breath, they were both as stubborn as each other.

“Is it fuck!?” Lance cried, leaping off the sofa.

“NO! Everything is always on YOUR terms!” Keith yelled, running his fingers through the hair that had only gotten longer since they’d started dating. It drove Lance to distraction, he just wanted to plait it, or tie it up or just shave it off in Keith’s sleep.

“That’s bullshit!”

“No! I had to ask you out! I had to make amends with YOU! We have to spend every single fucking holiday with your family!”

“Where else would we spend the holidays?!” Lance exclaimed. Even as he said it… he hadn’t really thought about the impact it would have. It wasn’t until Keith’s face fell completely that he realised the implications of the words he’d just said.

“That’s funny.” Keith muttered, though he didn’t sound amused. “You’re right, where would we spend the fucking holidays, because you’re the only one of the two of us to have a family.”

“Keith, that’s not what I mean-“

“SEE! It’s always ‘not what you meant!” Keith spat, he was seething. “You’re always the innocent one in this! It’s always MY fault! You’re so fucking perfect and innocent and wonderful! Never done a bad thing in your entire life. I will never, ever be good enough for you! Will I?! Little Orphan Keith will never be good enough for Lancey Lance and his huge perfect family!”

Lance winced, sucking in a deep breath, his temper flaring.

“This should have never happened.” Lance’s voice was low, he didn’t mean it, he knew he didn’t, but he was mad.

“What?!” Keith’s voice was much quieter now.

“This! Us! Look at us! It’s just like High School all over again!” Lance cried, gesturing between the two of them.

Lance expected a lot of things, he expected a shitty retort, a scream that threatened to blow the windows out of the entire apartment building, he even expected a slap, something that would never happen over what did happen.

He hadn’t expected to turn and hear the front door slam shut as Keith walked out.

*

Lance was on his stomach and Bella was on all fours, the dark curls of her hair falling forward into her eyes, Lance huffed, stroking his wrist to see if he had any hair-bands wrapped around them as had become habit. When he found he hadn’t, he sighed, he’d discovered over the course of his marriage that even though he’d grown up with sisters, he was not the best person in the house to deal with thick curling hair.

He couldn’t deny he was a little bitter at the revelation, but nevertheless, Bella deserved the best. He stroked his hands absent-mindedly underneath the couch, trying to find a hairband that had been left strewn about the place.

Bella stopped him in his tracks as she all but threw a Transformer into his face, he clutched his face and writhed about.

“Bella, chiquita, save yourself!” He groaned extending a dramatic hand toward her, she gazed on in amazement. “I have been defeated by Starscreen, you need to get away as fast as possible, contact the auto-bots, let them know that earth is in danger!”

Bella gurgled loudly in response, as Lance spotted a hair-tie out of the corner of his eye, snagged it and lightning fast, pulled Bella’s curls into a big, curly pony-tail at the back of her head. It was a familiar look.

“There, now you can save the world without getting hair in your eyes,” Lance smiled, sitting back onto his butt.

Bella dropped the Optimus Prime toy she was holding and her hands flew to her head, fingers feeling the hair that had been pulled back into the tie, after a couple of seconds of exploration, she yawned, and reached towards Lance, who pulled her tight against him, laid flush against his stomach, her head tucked underneath his neck. With his free hand he dragged a couch cushion onto the floor, resting his head against it as he tried not to let himself drift off to sleep with Bella clutched tightly against his chest.

Sunday mornings absolutely did not get any better than this.

*

“Don’t you think that that exact thing was the one thing I was worried about?!” Keith exclaimed down the phone, Lance was exceptionally surprised that Keith even bothered to answer, it was usually radio silence after an argument.

“You know I didn’t mean it, Keith!” Lance exclaimed, he was clearly beginning to get out of breath as he ran, down the stairs of his apartment building, chasing after him.

“But what if you’re right.” Keith huffed sadly, Lance came to an abrupt halt at the front door of the building.

This was not happening. He hadn’t meant it, and he’d curse himself forever more if those stupid, thoughtless words of his ended up being the thing that ended the best thing in his life.

“Keith…” Lance leant his head against the glass of the door, the weight of what was to come laying heavily in his chest.

“Lance, I’m serious.” Keith’s voice sounded thick, uneven, unsure, like the thought had only just popped into his mind. “What if… what if there’s just too much resentment there.”

“I don’t resent you.” Lance sighed, though he knew that was a lie, in reality, he did kind of resent Keith.

“Don’t lie to me, do you think after all this time I don’t know when you’re lying.”

Rather than address… that, he thought he’d flip the question.

“Do you resent me?” Lance held his hand firm on the knob of the door, was it worth running to Keith’s apartment when he sounded so done, so defeated.

So ready to give up. This wasn’t even their worst fight.

“Sometimes,”

Lance huffed, at least he was honest.

“Why do you resent me?” Lance made a decision, maybe it was better to have this conversation face-to-face. Lance refused to break up over the goddamn phone.

“It’s hard to explain,” Keith sounded like he was wincing. “Are you- are you coming over?”

“Of course!” Lance exclaimed, “If you’re going to be doing _this_ , I’m not doing it over the fucking phone, Keith.”

“Lance don’t.”

“No, Keith, I fucking refuse to be broken up with over the phone!” Lance cried, his footfalls as heavy as his thudding heart on the sidewalk.

“Are you making a scene out on the street?”

“OF COURSE I AM KEITH!” Lance cried down the phone, glaring at all the people staring at him. “WHEN AM I NOT MAKING A SCENE ARE YOU JOKING?!”

"Lance, please, I’m sorry.”

“No! Keith!” Lance continued his angry stomping towards Keith’s apartment. This was not how it ended. “You know what, I do resent you! I resent you so fucking hard dude!”

Keith was silent.

“I resent you because you never called me.” Lance whimpered down the phone. Seeing Keith’s apartment building on the horizon, a figure in Keith’s window. “I know I shouldn’t resent you for it, you were so fucking drunk, but dammit, fuck you for not calling me.”

The figure in the window suddenly moved.

*

Keith awoke with a start, the bed was empty, and the sun was close to blinding him as he shot out of bed, he knew he’d forgotten to do something last night, and going by the empty bed there would be consequences. He rubbed his eyes and stepped into the bathroom, hearing familiar noises coming from the living room.

The warmth of the shower rinsed the fatigue away from his eyes, he should not have stayed up so late last night, but unfortunately for him, time differences and meetings didn’t mix, and Keith’s business associate wasn’t one to fuck around. When she wanted something done, she wanted it done there and then. Couple that with the fact Lance's parents didn't leave till late last night, he'd have gotten a couple of hours of shut eye before business began.

Keith felt the familiar pang of guilt curdle in his stomach as he thought about the late nights, and how it was only the sunshine that was waking him up that morning. He was lucky, very, very lucky.

He climbed into some fresh sweatpants and wandered into the kitchen, and stepped in something wet and disgusting, something that made him gag and curse. As he glanced up he noticed the mess that had been made, he had two options, clean it up guiltily, or finish the job.

*

Keith wasn’t an idiot, he could put two and two together, he threw open the bedside drawer and pulled out a familiar slip of paper, the same slip of paper he’d poured over for years, it had remained a mystery to him for almost his entire life, he’d never been able to figure out where the hell it had come from, till now.

It suddenly all made sense. Without even bothering to throw his shoes on, he raced out of his apartment, Shiro staring and yelling after him, probably pissed off with all the ‘storming’ about he’d been doing as of late.

“LANCE!” Keith yelled, throwing open the glass-fronted door to his apartment building with so much force he almost shattered the goddamn thing.

And there he was, phone still in his hand and fury in his eyes, they were about to make a scene together, on the street, for the first time, and fuck it, Keith was gonna make it good.

He ignored how soaked through his socks were as he approached him, gripping the slip of paper in his hands, his heart wracking painfully in his chest.

“What, Keith.” Lance sniffled, his gaze baring down at him, Keith hadn’t seen that look in his eyes since the first day they bumped into each other on their fateful commutes to work.

“Marry me.”

If there was one thing that Keith could say he’d happily die after seeing, it was Lance’s face, because it was fucking spectacular. Eyes bugging out of his head, his mouth fallen open gormlessly, all the colour hopelessly drained so fast that Keith was sure he might faint from the blood loss.

“W-What?” Lance stammered, Keith was amazed he’d found the words.

Keith opened his palm and held out the slip of paper, and Lance’s cheeks re-filled with blood as he flushed with recognition.

“I nearly missed my chance once.” Keith breathed, forcing all the courage he had from deep within his core. “I’m not going to lose you again.”

Maybe it was a bad idea, maybe it was the worst thing they would do, because if they couldn’t decide who was going to live with who, how the fuck where they meant to get married.

But the tremble in Lance’s lips, and the look in his eyes told Keith that honestly, it was the easiest decision that they would ever make.

“Are you crying?” Keith stepped closer, the frigid cold from his wet socks hard to ignore.

“NooooOoooooOOOOooo.” Lance sucked in a deep breath.

“Well?”

“Oh… wait, what you’re serious?!”

“Of course.”

“Yeah, yeah okay!”

*

Breakfast finished, floor cleaned through much gagging.

“Hello?!” Keith called, pancakes plated up with a drizzle of maple syrup on both, a strawberry for garnish.

He could hear the television, but he heard no noise. Had it suddenly become too much? The late nights? The phone calls, the half-paying attention at dinner? Keith wouldn’t honestly be surprised, with a thick dread in his stomach he padded almost on tip-toes to the living room.

But instead, he was met with the sight of the two most important people in his life, fast asleep on the floor, Bella’s favourite cartoon playing on the television, transformers scattered across the rug around them. He leant against the frame of the door at the pair of them, a soft smile on his lips.

No amount of money, or work could top this, the sunlight from the sky light above them making them glow, bundled up together like cats in a sun-spot, completely contented.

What could be more perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay fluffy fluff fluff

**Author's Note:**

> Lemme know whatcha think!


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